Requiem In A Dream
by NatesMama
Summary: One shot from Booth's perspective. Angsty. No apologies.


Requiem in a Dream

It was like walking through water, thought Booth. The grief encompassed him like a wet, cold blanket and refused to let go. His steps felt heavy, leaden. He entered the auditorium of the Jeffersonian Institute through the side door so he could avoid the looks. The _looks. _He knew that absolutely everyone was devastated, hurting…but it somehow seemed as though they all held his grief to a higher standard, as if he had lost a wife, and not just a partner and friend. Booth chuckled mirthlessly to himself. _Even now that she's gone I keep denying the truth. _

Standing off to the side of the room, he watched, unnoticed, as the people who had been touched by Temperance Brennan in one way or another stood around hugging, grieving, remembering. He watched as Angela cried on Jack's shoulder, sobs wracking her slender frame. Tears ran down Hodgins' face as he held her, both surrounded in a fog of despair.

Not far away from where Booth stood, former FBI agent Tim Sullivan spoke quietly with another man, one Booth did not recognize. Sully shook his head sadly and looked down into the glass of amber liquid he was holding. Another soul lost without her.

Closer to the front of the room stood Max Keenan and his son, Russ Brennan. Bones' blood family. The two men flanked the simple, elegant oak casket as mourners passed by, offering what little comfort they could to the pair. Both looked wrecked. Booth wished for the strength, the words to ease their pain…but found nothing but an empty, hollow pit inside himself.

Walking among the other mourners he saw Cam and Zack, holding hands as if to anchor each other. Booth had never seen Zack look so lost, and that was saying something. And the grief in Cam's eyes almost surprised him…but didn't. She and Bones had reached a mutual understanding and respect a long time ago, and he supposed that they were actually friends.

Booth continued to watch silently as Sweets and Daisy stood talking with the other regular interns from the Jeffersonian. Wendell, Clark, Vincent, Fisher, even the older intern whose name Booth couldn't recall, all looking just a little bit lost and a lot saddened. He wondered if she had an inkling as to the number of lives she had touched in a positive way.

As if cementing that thought, Booth was amazed to see Carol and Jimmy Grant walk towards the front of the room to speak to Russ and Max. After they had gotten custody of little Andy, they had apparently kept in touch with Brennan, letting her know regularly how the little guy was doing. He watched as Max and Russ looked around, and he realized that they were looking for him, so he stepped back even further into the shadows lest they see him and want to talk.

Booth began to recognize more and more people who had been helped by their partnership over the years, all walking around and talking to the team, or comparing stories, or just standing there. It was almost humbling to see the impact she had had on so many…that _they_ had. They were, after all, partners.

A large man stepped up to the front of the room and took his place in front of the microphone. "Could I have everyone's attention please?", he began in what Zack once described as a "deep, African-American tone". "We are going to begin in just a few minutes. I would encourage everyone who would like to say a few words to please step over here to the side, we will try to get to everyone. And, if Agent Booth would please come forward, the family would like you to begin." Dr. Goodman stepped off to the side as the entire room began to look around for the missing agent.

Booth stood in his hiding place, cemented there by a mix of horror and shame. He was too afraid to go in front of all these people and tell them what he really wanted to say about Temperance Brennan, and he was too afraid not to. Any other time, Booth would have headed for the bar and had a shot or two for courage, but since he had already been drunk for the last four days, even the thought of alcohol made his stomach clench. Suddenly, he felt a small hand slide into his.

"Daddy?" Booth looked down into the shining, tear-filled eyes of his son. "Aren't you going to say something about Bones? They're looking for you."

Booth's breath hitched painfully as he watched a tear fall down Parker's small cheek. "I-I don't know, Parker. I don't know if I can." If there was anyone else in the entire world Booth would show his vulnerable side to, it was this boy.

"You can do it, Dad. Bones would do it for you, wouldn't she?" Booth couldn't argue with Parker's pure and simple logic, so he nodded slowly and allowed him to lead his dad to the front of the room.

The crowd parted for them, and gave them both what Booth had begun to refer to as _the look _as they made their way to the casket. Max and Russ stepped aside, both knowing that they were not the most important mourners at this gathering, and acquiescing to the man who was.

Holding onto Parker's hand for dear life, Booth looked down at the still, silent body of his partner. His friend. The love of his life. The memories started to wash over him unbidden, and the pain in his chest increased a thousand fold. He wanted to brush the hair from her shoulder and take her hand in his, but instead he turned and faced the expectant crowd.

"Temperance Brennan was the most amazing woman. She was gifted, intelligent, beautiful and brave. She was caring and loving, but strong and tough as well. She cared for everyone around her in her own way, whether you were a victim's family who needed her expertise to achieve justice, or one of her family members who simply needed her." From the middle of the room, Booth could hear Angela's strangled cries as he spoke, but managed to tune her out before he lost his own tenuous hold on his emotions. "I was beyond honored to be her partner for five years, her friend for almost as long, and her champion for as long as she needed me. She became my touchstone in that short, all too short amount of time. She was my anchor, my rock, my salvation." Swallowing the large lump in his throat, Booth struggled to continue. "I don't think that she-ever, that she ever knew what she did for me. She would say that I helped her to relate more to people, to see something in the world of the living beyond the dead. But I now think that she was the one who did that for me. She showed me that it was okay to face my demons, to bring them out into the light, and that there would always be someone there who would hold my hand, hold me in their arms, and never judge me. Only accept me. For a long time I fought that from her. I didn't want to let her in, to let go of that excuse to never let anyone get too close. But she wouldn't let me. She fought for me even harder than I fought for her, and for that I will always love her. Because she saved me. Because she was my champion, too."

The tears that had been threatening since the beginning won their fight and began to course down Booth's face. He released Parker's hand for a moment and turned back to the casket behind him. Leaning down, he placed a kiss on her forehead and gave into the urge to brush her hair back. "I love you, Bones. And I will miss you forever. Thank you for saving me."

With a gasp, Booth sat up in bed, shaking and fumbling for the bedside lamp. When his twitching fingers finally snagged the switch, the entire bedroom was bathed in a soft light. Looking to the still-sleeping woman next to him, Booth breathed a sigh of relief and gingerly rolled out of bed so that he wouldn't wake her. He headed into the living room, gazing at the pictures adorning the walls as he walked by. Pictures of Parker in school, playing hockey, playing in the snow. Their wedding pictures, pictures of Emma when she first came home from the hospital, taking her first steps, his whole family story laid out in glass, wood and celluloid. Sighing, he sat down on the sofa and flipped on the television, willing his heart to return to a normal beat. Hearing a creak, he turned to the doorway in time to see her enter, wearing a short nightie and a worried look.

"Seeley? Are you alright?" She sat down next to him and absently ran her hand up and down his leg. "Did you have another weird dream?"

Nodding, he reached for her hand and held it tight. "This time, it was a funeral. Parker was there. So were the others. I had to give the eulogy."

"Jesus. I can see why you were upset." She scooted further up onto the sofa and laid her head on his shoulder. "Was it the same group of people? The ones from the other dreams like in your coma?"

"Yeah. They were all there. It was surreal." Booth shook his head and placed his arm around his wife. "I know it's silly, but I really feel like I know these people. Like I _should_ know them, anyway. And to have to give her eulogy, it was hard to do, Becks."

Rebecca nodded, feeling only a slight twinge of jealousy about the imaginary woman her husband had been dreaming about for the last five years. "Maybe this is a sign, though. Maybe…maybe it's the end of the dreams. You said she's always the center. It's possible that, without her, the dreams will stop."

"Maybe." Booth sighed and stood, pulling her along with him. "I hope so, anyway. Let's go to bed."

"Good idea." She followed him back into their bedroom and laid down, pulling the comforter over both of them. "Go back to sleep, babe. You have an early morning."

"Yeah, I do. Thanks, Becks. I love you. Goodnight."

"I love you, too. Goodnight, Seeley."

Booth lie awake for a few more minutes, thinking about the last dream and everything that Rebecca had said. The series of dreams he had been having about his imaginary FBI partner were usually pretty explicit and detailed, and had been happening regularly since he had a small, benign tumor removed from his brain several years before. The doctors had no explanation for them, except to refer him to a psychologist who told him that the dreams were simply a manifestation of his day-to-day stresses and worries finding a release. He didn't know if he believed that, but he had no other explanation.

Rolling over and attempting sleep, Booth decided to put the dreams out of his mind. _I have a good life. A great wife, two beautiful kids, a job I love…I have no reason to dream about another life. Time to put this all to bed._

Slipping into a deep slumber, Booth's last unconscious thoughts were of his beautiful, imaginary dream partner.


End file.
